


The Dynamics of a Black Hole

by lizmindpalace



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: M/M, Sheriarty - Freeform, What Have I Done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-22 12:13:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17059568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizmindpalace/pseuds/lizmindpalace
Summary: Hello! First of all sorry for any mistake here.Second. I hadn't really written Sheriarty before so I hope you liked it.Third, well I love psysics and the idea came when I was reading an article about the collision of two black holes, I hope you like science and forgive me if I changed some definitions a little bit.Fourth, Merry Christmas! And I hope we can become friends. I tried my best here, I wanted to make it longer but I couldn't.Let me know if the story is a bit confusing. It is placed in this Christmas day (2018)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [on_erebus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/on_erebus/gifts).



A black hole is a region of space having a gravitational field so intense that no matter or radiation can escape.  
Nothing can escape. Everything falls for it, and neither is the black holes' fault nor the things that are attracted. And those things would never get out of the way of a black hole. They would be trapped forever. No matter how much they tried to run away, they wouldn't be able to escape. No that they wanted to, though, in some cases.

Sherlock Holmes was a kind of a black hole. His gravity field could be either his angel face alike or his brilliant brain. That beautifully intense brain. He attracted people. Even if he didn't want to, and even if he wanted to. And people who were attracted by Sherlock's gravity field, wouldn't be able to escape either they wanted to, or not. 

A black hole can also, attract another black holes. Or maybe two black holes attract mutually, it depends on the matter of both of them.  
It is described like the most powerful event of the universe when two black holes collide. Because it seems everything is quiet and then, all of a sudden a lot of energy fills the universe. Not that the energy makes too much change in the universe, but it gets noticeable. And the biggest change is for the two black holes that now are together and moving faster across the universe together, like a big chaos.

James Moriarty was also a black hole, a very black one.  
His gravity field could be either his devilish handsome face or his beautifully shaped brain.  
He attracted people, either they wanted to be attracted, or not. He attracted criminals, who were grateful for being attracted most of the times. But he also attracted victims who didn't want to be attracted and still, wouldn't be able to run away.

And then, Jim was attracted by another black hole as dense as himself, so similar. And he _liked_ to be attracted.

Still, black holes are usually thousands and thousands of kilometers away. It is a long, slow way. A work that takes ages and a lot of energy to get done. 

* * *

 

He should have known it. It was obvious. Anyone could have seen it coming. Anyone. Although, they didn't have his intellectual abilities.  
_But he didn't see it._  
How was that even possible?

He had not wanted to accept it. No. Because it would be impossible, and of course, a mistake.  
But now, he thought accepting it, could have saved a life. Made it less miserable, less desolated.

But he didn't. He didn't want to lose. And in the end he had lost more than he thought it was possible.

The first time Sherlock met Jim Moriarty, he wasn't scared, he wasn't angry or looking for getting revenge over all those deaths, or John's kidnapping. He was more like... Impressed.  
Finally, someone as clever as himself. Someone who understood how much boring life was, how much hateful peace was, how much painful was being all alone in the middle of ordinary people.  
He also knew, Jim was feeling the same. What was the game?  
It was all really about a fall?  
Yes. But _what kind of fall_?

* * *

  
London was colder during this time of year. Some citizens used to think that hell would be actually a little more similar to this burning cold than the paintings on some church's ceilings.  
It was also noisier and alive for some of the people there.  
But for others was quiet, silent.  
He had never been a big fan of Christmas day. It seemed the hours stopped in order to increase his boredom.  
Things have also changed a bit since John Watson had to take care of his little girl and make sure she was alright in all possible ways. So if the little girl wanted to go to the mall to visit Santa , well, John Watson would take her to the mall to visit Santa.

Sherlock was invited but he decided it was not a good idea after what had happened a year before in the same day, same mall. Lucky for him, the girl was a baby so she didn't understand what _uncle Sherlock_ was saying.  
"Don't fill their little brains with fairy tales, expecting the world's peace from some red dressed old man that is not real!"  
John had rolled his eyes and taken Sherlock away from the line, trying to figure out if any of the children there, had heard what the detective had said.  
"You used to be kind to children, didn't you?"  
"I am bored, I suppose"  
So they came back home. And now Sherlock had decided to stay home so he would not be able to say things he didn't want to say.  
He was bored. Christmas day was boring. He was also, all alone. God knows where Mrs. Hudson had spent the night. So, he took his violin and put it over his shoulder.  
_Mi, la, la, si, la, sol, fa, fa..._  
The cheerful melody didn't reflect his mood.  
_Fa, si, si, do, si, la, sol, mi..._  
Why was he even playing something related to Christmas? Christmas was ruining his day.  
_Mi, do, do, si, la, sol, fa, fa..._  
Stupid carols, if only they weren't so catchy...  
_Mi, mi, fa, si, la, sol._  
He sighed once the chorus had finished, and heard some applauses, just behind his back. He turned to see who had arrived without noticing.  
He had not heard John's steps, neither Rosie's laugh...or crying. He had not smelled at Mrs. Hudson perfume. He had not noticed someone breaking into his peaceful state of mind.  
" _We wish you a merry Christmas, and a happy new year..._ I could be the singer, if you wanted me to"  
"W-hat?... H-" the detective raised an eyebrow and looked fixed at the man in John's armchair, who was also looking at Sherlock with wide eyes, grinning.  
"Did you miss me?" The man smiled once again "oh, no. Forget it. I can see, clearly, you did, but no worries, I am here now"  
Jim stood up and sat back in Sherlock's armchair waiting for him to join Jim.  
"What are you doing here?" Sherlock had more important questions to ask, but it would show Moriarty he had no clues, that he didn't know. He could not allow him to think he had won and had surprised the detective, he had to think Sherlock knew he would come back, and in some part it was true.  
"It's Christmas! Day to see beloved ones and bring them good wishes." His smile still in his face. "I was bored, I thought you would be also bored and you would want to see me as much as myself, because of course you would be all alone as well. How's your new daddy's role going? I suppose not very well... "  
"What do you want?" Sherlock had finally put his violin away so he was able to focus in his guest' face. It sort of reminded him their reunion some years ago.  
"I told you. I came to see you, to bring you good wishes. Talk "  
"What could you possibly want to talk about?"  
"Well I have a lot of ideas. We have time enough before John Watson returns. We can talk and then move into more interesting business, if you don't mind" Sherlock was caught off guard, his eyes widened and Jim smirked.  
"So?"  
"When I leave today. I want you to tell me"  
"Tell you what?"  
Jim sighed. A fake disappointing face, as fake as all his facial expressions.  
"How you feel."  
Sherlock raised his eyebrow and then nodded in realisation. He knew what was going to happen. He knew it. And still, he was doing nothing to avoid it.  
"But at first I have some rules. Every game has its own. This won't be different."  
Sherlock nodded once again. Closed eyes.  
"I am listening"  
"Fine. You have to choose..."  
Sherlock's eyes opened.  
"John Watson or me. You know, I am the jealous one. And I am not even asking you to hurt him, just choose. I know it could seem an easy choice. John Watson should be the wisest choice for anyone... but you are not anyone, are you?"  
Sherlock knew he didn't have to answer to that question, he already knew the answer.

* * *

  
"Sherlock?" John had been knocking for the last five minutes and finally had entered the room, looking for Sherlock.  
It had been hours. John had taken the little Rosie to meet Santa and it had taken more time he would have wanted. And now Sherlock was in bed, sleeping. Too early for him? John was glad he would not have to hear complains about the day or the world for that night. He would let him sleep.

* * *

  
_Friday_  
The evil bastard had... Drugged him? Because he was not able to remember anything. Just his grinning face, always having fun of him. What had he decided? What had happened? What had he said?  
If John was still living in Baker Street and Moriarty hadn't come in all those days, probably he had been wise enough and chose John Watson. Then Jim had got angry at him and had drugged him in revenge, he would forget everything and then make him think. Good plan, but it was solved by now.  
"You are losing the touch" Sherlock said to himself, smiling. He liked to win.  
"Am I? Shame, I thought you had liked it" Not able to even remember what had happened during his visit to Baker Street. Probably, something he should not feel proud of, and still was standing at Jim's side.  
It was winter. It was cold. It was lonely and it was getting late. Why had he accepted to go?  
Cemeteries were not a happy place to spend this sort of days to anyone. But once again, they weren't anyone, were they?  
They were standing over dead leaves, dead bodies, looking at the sky and its pale colors, saying nothing, saying everything. What could a couple of genius say to each other? Words were not necessary.  
"Are you gonna tell me how?"  
"I think is fair" Jim nodded "but are you already giving in?"  
Sherlock moved his head to the sides. He didn't like to lose. He had to try harder. What was this all for?  
"So, I'll tell you a story if you want to figure it out. No worries, it is just a clue"  
Sherlock listened to Jim, carefully, word by word. And then fell asleep, once again forgetting everything had happened.

* * *

  
John Watson had been looking for Sherlock for three days now.  
It was December 31th and the city was a big chaos, and Sherlock was missing. He thought he might have gone to solve a case on his own, but the way he had left Baker Street would mean he had planned to come back, but he didn't. So he called Molly Hooper but he was not in the laboratory at St. Barts Hospital, neither was in Scotland Yard and Greg had assured he hadn't called him since two weeks ago.  
John had gone to the places he knew Sherlock could buy drugs over London, and any not common places Sherlock used to go sometimes, no very often though.  
But Sherlock was not there.

* * *

  
Sherlock woke up over soil. His clothes dirty, he was dizzy, shaking, freezing, dying... He was over a grave. A grave with no name. Jim had done it again.


	2. Chapter 2

_Once upon a time there was in a dark forest, a little boy. This boy was not special, or maybe he was, because other two boys fell for him. One of those boys was very good with medicine, healing people, such a hero. On the other hand, the other boy was far more handsome if you ask, and he was brilliant._  
_So these two boys courted the little boy in the forest. And he had to choose. But the 'healing' boy was a cheater, and took advantage when the other one was not looking. And so the little boy was stupid, really silly, and chose the first one. The brilliant one didn't like to lose, really didn't. So he had to kill the little boy for being that stupid, and even the doctor could not bring him back to life. What would have happened if the little boy had made the right choice, Sherlock? East wind_ _is_ _not the only one to be afraid of._

Jim had told his story in such spooky tone, anybody would have had their pants wet, obviously not Sherlock, who had recognised the story, the Greek myth. In this case Jim was playing God  
Zephyrus, The West wind; accurate, East Wind and West Wind joining forces could create really big chaos; John was Apollon and Sherlock was Hyacinthus.  
Sherlock knew the story and all its details, Mycroft had talked him a lot about Greek Mythology. Eurus, the East wind used to be a nightmare. Never thought the West wind would be just as dangerous as the East wind, or even more.  
So Hyacinthus had chosen Apollon and got killed. Although, thanks to his blood a new type of flower had born, he would not allow to get killed by this angry new West Wind. Or would he?

"So are you threatening me? If I don't follow the West wind you will kill me? Sounds quite boring" Sherlock asked and Jim smiled, not the reaction he would have expected.  
"That would be in fact, something boring, Sherlock. Something I would not do. You know it. I'd do something worse than kill you "  
Sherlock agreed.  
"Besides, this is just a clue, Sherlock. You already made that choice but you can't remember it. The clue will help you to deduce what your choice was"

And then it was all black again. It was everything he could remember. And it was not enough. It could mean either he had chosen John (not romantically, of course, Sherlock reminded) and now Jim was warning him, he was gonna destroy him soon, or (the one he was most terrified to consider) he had chosen the West wind and that's why he was (still) alive. It was not a clue.

* * *

  
December was not easy, nor the holidays. He missed Mary, and he knew, Rosie missed her too (though she didn't really know). Cemeteries were not a good place to spend these days. Still had spent a couple of hours talking to the smiling ghost of Mary Morstan in her grave (also complaining about Sherlock and his behaviour) . And then all of a sudden, Mary warned John about Sherlock stumbling in the main path of the cemetery.  


* * *

  
John had ran, ran as fast as he could.  
"Where'd you been?" John asked once he was able to breath again, which had been painful, the air was pretty cold and his lungs were finding difficult to make a good work with it.  
"You've been lost for three days, Sherlock!"  
But the man said nothing. Like he was not there, or at least not his mind.  
John made Sherlock to look at him. His red eyes told a lot to John about why Sherlock had been gone.  
"You are high, again"  
The rest of the trip back to 221 b Baker Street was in silence. John was angry, furious, actually.  
"You could have died, you know?"  
John said for the last time before Sherlock entered his bedroom. "I am tired of dealing with children, Sherlock, and people who act like children too."  
"You don't understand" Sherlock finally said.  
"No, of course I don't, because I am not a genius, like you, you've made it clear plenty of times."  
"It's Moriarty"  
John raised an eyebrow and got a bit pale.  
"What does he have  to do with this?"  
"He's back" Sherlock nodded.  
"You said he was dead"  
"I was wrong" and left a frightful John standing in the living room.

* * *

  
"Why?"  
The man sighed, he was often tired of explain everything to everybody.  
"That is not a good question. You should already know it. You are getting ordinary, aren't you? But ok, I will explain it, if it makes you feel better. The two of us, Sherlock, are the same, but opposite, opposites attract, we don't have to be all alone, fighting against boredom when we have each other, don't you think?"  
Sherlock nodded.  
"Oh, I gotta go" 

* * *

 

John had arrived to Baker Street and for the second time, found out Sherlock was high.  
He had red eyes, he was curled over his armchair, looking to John like he was looking at anyone else, and he was talking to himself, like he was out of his mind. His nose was also bleeding. Was he overdosed?  
"Sherlock! Sherlock!"  
"He escaped! He... We have to go after him! "  
"Who? What are you talking about?"  
"You should have seen it! He just left, a minute before you arrived. "  
"Who?!"  
"Moriarty!"  
"He's not here, he wasn't here, you took drugs, you are high!"

_It is science, Sherlock. Something not easy to understand to anyone but us, we're like black holes, they attract each other, Sherlock._

"No, no"

_You know what are black holes, Sherlock? They're dead stars. Dead genius, like us._

"Sherlock, please, focus on me! Please, tell me, can you hear me? Sherlock?"

Sherlock's breath was heavy, and he started to cough.

_A star needs to die._

John called an ambulance. Sherlock was talking, screaming at the wall, or at something in his mind palace or maybe at a ghost, at the death.

 _When they collide they are together, forever, there's no way to escape_.

"Please, Sherlock." Now John was giving RCP, Sherlock was actually dying.

_But what really happens? Two black holes become one? Or one of them, the stronger one, consumes the other one? And it is trapped forever inside the other one. Or this one that is trapped manipulates the other one? Maybe, scientist will never know, but guess what? Maybe we'll know._

John noticed Sherlock's heartbeat had stopped, there was vomit material in his mouth, his eyes lifeless.

 _Then you know it?_  
_Yes_ _._  
_Go on_ _._  
_You, I chose you._  
_Indeed, love._ _And how did you feel that night?_  
_I liked it._

Jim smirked, watching the show where no one could see him, not even Sherlock.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! First of all sorry for any mistake here.  
> Second. I hadn't really written Sheriarty before so I hope you liked it.  
> Third, well I love psysics and the idea came when I was reading an article about the collision of two black holes, I hope you like science and forgive me if I changed some definitions a little bit.  
> Fourth, Merry Christmas! And I hope we can become friends. I tried my best here, I wanted to make it longer but I couldn't.  
> Let me know if the story is a bit confusing. It is placed in this Christmas day (2018)


End file.
